


A New Dance

by Philomytha



Series: Reconstruction [2]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: AU, F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 15:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philomytha/pseuds/Philomytha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Aral and Alys kiss. A Reconstruction 'verse fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avanti_90](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avanti_90/gifts).



> This fic may not make much sense if you haven't read 'Reconstruction'.

The musicians struck up for the last dance, and Alys looked around, then smiled. Her husband was crossing the ballroom towards her, and as she caught his eye, he extended a hand with self-conscious ostentation. She made a shallow curtsey in response, and he reached her.

"Might I have the honour?" he asked, his voice dancing with amusement.

"Of course."

She raised an eyebrow questioningly at his unexpectedly joyful expression, and he said, "We've pulled it off. The trade deal has gone through. We'll be able to send our ships through the Hegen Hub again."

Alys found herself matching Aral's elated grin. He slid an arm around her waist and led her into the dance. "That's wonderful," she said. "Absolutely wonderful." More than wonderful. They'd been wrestling for this for months. Permission to transit the Hub meant more trade and happier Komarrans, meant more tax revenues and the possibility of lowering of other taxes on an exhausted populace, meant better diplomatic relations, meant ... a score of things, all adding up to an easier time for everyone. Aral was light on his feet as he spun her around, as glowingly happy as she'd ever seen him.

She let him steer her around the ballroom, relaxing into the steps and his hold, relaxing for what felt like the first time in weeks. She tilted her head back to smile again, and Aral pulled her closer.

"One of the deciding points was the deal you thought up to keep the Minister of War happy," he said. "It meant he accepted the Polians' requirements without kicking too much, just like you said. I'm sorry for doubting you on that."

Alys traced her fingers along Aral's shoulder. It had taken her three days of discussion and argument to persuade Aral to try her plan. "I'm glad it worked."

Aral lifted her hand and kissed it. "It was perfect, my lady."

They whirled through the rest of the dance, and at the end spun dizzily around before dropping into the formal bow and curtsey. Aral drew her to her feet, and she looked up at him, exhilarated and laughing, and he pulled her into an embrace. Alys leaned against him, her hands running over his broad back, and abruptly she was conscious of him not only as her friend, companion, partner, but as a man. As her husband. 

They had shared a bed often since that first night, whether because of nightmares or loneliness or because they'd been talking all evening and saw no need to part, or even during the winter months because the Residence's heating and draught-proofing was a little unpredictable, but during all that time, they had been guarded, careful not to touch too intimately, not to cross certain lines. Aral had given no sign of interest, and in the aftermath of Ivan's birth Alys had scarcely been able to think of physical desire. And though they discussed thousands of other things, this was something they never spoke of.

Aral's hand trailed down her side, then stopped, and all at once a thought became clear in Alys's head: Aral was never going to make the first move, was never going to impose his wishes on a wife he had coaxed to marry him for political reasons. If she wanted this, it was for her to make it clear.

She leaned closer to him, so that her breasts pressed against his chest, and brought her hands up to the back of his neck, bending his head down towards hers. Aral's breath caught.

"Alys--" he began, and his grip on her tightened. "I--"

She kissed him, quickly but not at all chastely, her mouth opening on his, her meaning unmistakeable.

"Alys," he said again as she broke off, his eyes wide and fixed on her. "Do you--what--I didn't think--"

Alys had a sudden moment of fear. She'd betrayed herself, but she had no idea of Aral's interest. She had come to know his preferences, and she was no man, no soldier, no warrior save in the battles that were invisible to most Barrayaran men. Perhaps this was not something he wanted from her.

"A wife may kiss her husband, may she not?" she said, trying to sound calm and lightly amused instead of intent and nervous. She did not step away, barely breathing, knowing that if he withdrew she would not be able to try again. He gazed at her, eyes searching, and Alys could not conceal her anxiety from him. She offered a smile, as shy as if she'd never spent whole nights in his arms while she wept, or he did. Thinking of that, some of her anxiety faded. Even if he did not share her desires, he would let her down with the gentleness he had always shown to her. She could trust him for that.

But instead he began to smile in return, his earlier elation bubbling up again, and pulled her close against him. His hand caressed her cheek, tilting her face upwards, a look of wonder in his eyes. "Yes," he breathed in her ear, "and I think that a husband may kiss his wife, too."


End file.
